The Mind of a Child

By Marshanne Mishoe

The Mind of a Child

Two eras, two women, one story of strength and love.

1940: When Jessa gives birth to her youngest son, instinct tells her all's not well. Her husband and doctor are keeping something from her, but what?

2007: Willa adjusts to her new job serving as an

• Language: English
• Publisher: 2020 LITERARY GROUP LLC
• Release date: Aug 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781961250574

Book preview

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MARSHANNE MISHOE

The Mind of a Child

Copyright © 2023 by Marshanne Mishoe

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN

978-1-961250-56-7 (Paperback)

978-1-961250-57-4 (eBook)

978-1-961250-55-0 (Hardcover)

Chapter 1

May, 1940, Junction Point, South Carolina

Jessa lay on her side, panting roughly. It was quiet except for the rain hitting the windowpane and the wind chimes tinkling in the pecan tree outside her bedroom window. The sun had been setting– was it an hour ago or two already?– as Raymond had taken Danny to their elderly neighbor’s, Mrs. McGraff’s. Danny had been a real trooper all day but both she and Raymond knew it was time to pass him off for the night. He didn’t need to witness all that would come.

Jessa’s blue eyes darted around the room as she tried to focus on something…anything. They fell on the bedside picture of Danny. He smiled at her from the black and white photo, taken at his second birthday party last month. She pushed a golden lock of hair out of her face and smiled back weakly. He was worth it. This one would be, too.

Jessa could hear Raymond, far off somewhere, banging pots and pans. As her eyes trailed down, they stopped on her stomach. It looked as if it had a life of its own. First it contorted, then a tiny bump thrust itself out in a protrusion to her side. Moving, though…all the time, it was moving. Jessa closed her eyes, blocking out the alien sight and breathed in deeply. Nausea began its wave over her and she clutched the sheet, trying to prepare herself for that paralyzing grip that would inevitably come again.

Raymond came into the room with a bowl and washcloth and tried to place it on his wife’s forehead. She swatted it away, agitated, and then moaned as panic seized her face.

Jessa, look here, Raymond commanded, trying to make eye contact with this wild, wounded beast that was his wife. I need you to breathe…in, slowly, out slowly, in…

Jessa swept her hand around, trying to sit up, and spilled the water from the bowl. Raymond ran his fingers through his thick, red hair and yelled out loud, Damn it! This isn’t how it was with Danny! It went quicker, it wasn’t so hard. Woman, you need to tell me. Can you do this here or do I need to take you to County?

Jessa’s groans became more hysterical as the pressure, the pain increased. Raymond suddenly realized she couldn’t tell him. She wasn’t able. He would have to make the call himself. Screwing up all the self-discipline it had taken to get him through basic training at Parris Island, Raymond stuffed down his own panic. He went back over the day.

* * *

Things had been slow and annoying for her at first, starting at about 4:30 in the morning. By midday, the pain increased; it came more often. He’d had to keep Danny playing in the kitchen so the boy wouldn’t worry about his mother. Then, all afternoon things had stayed about the same, with labor pains just grinding away at his wife, her strength, his nerves.

Then it all had really picked up again at suppertime. He had been feeding Danny oatmeal in the kitchen when he heard Jessa cry out for him from the bedroom. It was all he could do to keep Danny from scrambling out of his high chair to follow him.

Raymond had come into the bedroom to find Jessa clinging to the post of their rice bed, her face pasty and grimaced.

I need you with me! she cried.

So, putting his arm around her waist and practically lifting her, Raymond had helped his wife back to bed. She had fallen back into the feather pillows and begged, Please don’t leave me!

Jessa, hon, I have to take care of Danny. Then I’ll be right back. I promise.

He had kissed her forehead, then turned and ran to the boy’s room. He had grabbed up Danny’s pillow and blanket from his crib and rushed back to the kitchen.

He found his son smiling his dimpled grin, as usual. He is always so cheerful, Raymond had thought absently. Danny immediately started scooting out of his chair, saying, I see Momma!

Not now, son, Raymond had replied as he scooped him out of his chair and wrapped him in the blanket. Mommy is sleeping, but Mrs. McGraff has just baked one of her chocolate layer cakes and she says if you are a good boy, you can have a piece.

He had clutched the boy to his chest as he ran out of the side door into the rain. It was getting dark, so he had stepped in every puddle between his yard and the McGraffs’. The little boy laughed at the drops of water running down his face. When he reached the porch, Mrs. McGraff had come to the door and said, Come on in, little fella. I have a cobbler in the oven.

Choc-it cake. Danny replied.

Mrs. McGraff’s eyes had met Raymond’s anxious ones, and she said, Well, come on in and let’s see about that. She held out her arms and took the boy. As Raymond turned to run off the front stoop, Mrs. McGraff had stopped him.

Listen, son, it’s 1940. Women do not have to give birth at home every time. She’s been going a long time now. If things don’t happen shortly, I’d get her to County.

Right, he’d replied and then run back out into the rain.

* * *

Now it was time to decide. He looked at his wife’s face. He listened to her laboring screams. He’d never felt more helpless. He knew another one was coming. He had about three or four minutes to move her. As she collapsed back into the pillows, exhausted from the latest round, Raymond gingerly worked his arms under her neck and knees. As he lifted, Jessa folded in half at the waist and let out a scream.

Unbend me! Please! she shrieked.

He straightened her out the best he could, as he carried her, sheet, blanket and all, to the front door. Of course, the rain and wind had picked up, he thought to himself. He’d just make a run for it.

For the second time this horrible night, he held one of the two…almost three…most important people in his life to his chest and dashed out into the storm. He used the fingers of his left hand to open the back door of the Buick. The next part was tricky. He turned and put Jessa’s head in first, working her across the backseat as best he could. The end of the blanket dropped into the rain water on the ground and Raymond threw that part on the floorboard. He ran around to the other back door and tried to fashion a pillow from part of the sheet. He shoved it under Jessa’s head, slammed the door and patted his pockets. No keys!

I’ll be right back! he yelled to no one listening. He scrambled up the back steps, reached inside the kitchen door and felt along the wall in the dark. His hands stumbled onto the key hook and his fingers gripped the car keys. Thank the Lord, Raymond mumbled. Racing back to the car, he started it up, threw it in reverse and backed out of the driveway, just in time to hear Jessa start to scream again.

* * *

Smoke billowed out of Raymond’s nostrils as he lit up a Lucky Strike. Filterless. The only way this former Marine would smoke. Jessa hated his smoking, but she never nagged. She just looked at him with her knowing blue eyes and he knew what she was thinking.

Raymond stared through his reflection in the waiting room window, out into the wet darkness. The rain had stopped, finally. They’d made it to the hospital two or more hours ago. Nurses, doctors, everyone in the ER it seemed, all came out to help get Jessa on the gurney. One of them, an orderly, had asked him, Why’d you wait so long? He hadn’t answered the question, even though he had also been asking it of himself.

Now everything was quiet. It’s enough to drive you mad, Raymond thought. First, he was swarmed by activity, questions about Jessa; how far along was she, how often were the labor pains coming, was this her first birth? As the gurney worked its way down the hall, he’d held Jessa’s hand. But when they arrived at the labor room doors, a nurse planted herself in front of him.

I’m sorry, Mr. Bland. This is as far as you can go. We’ll take good care of your wife and baby. You can wait on the second floor in the room to the left of the elevator. We’ll let you know something shortly.

Shortly! He hadn’t heard a word since then and he was trying very hard to control his impatience.

The doors of the elevator opened around the corner. Raymond turned from the window and walked across the room just in time to meet a doctor at the door.

Mr. Bland? the doctor asked.

Raymond nodded.

I’m Dr. Joseph. You’re the only one in here at this hour, I see.

Raymond stepped aside so the doctor could enter the room.

Let’s sit down, shall we? Dr. Joseph asked gently.

Raymond obeyed, but his patience was at its breaking point, so he blurted, My wife, Doctor. How’s my wife? Did I get her here in time?

Well, yes. You two pushed it to the limit. But she’s fine! Exhausted but okay.

Relief washed over Raymond’s face. Can I see her? Can I see them? he asked.

Dr. Joseph set his jaw for a moment and said, Mr. Bland, I’m afraid there might be some complications.

Raymond’s eyes shot back to the doctor’s, giving him full attention. What do you mean? Was it a boy or a girl? Is it all right?

A boy, the doctor stated flatly.

A boy! Another son! Raymond’s mind tried to get around this fact. Jessa had wanted a girl. They would have named her Jessica, after her mother. But a boy was fine. Danny needed a playmate. But wait…the doctor had said complications.

What did you say about complications? Raymond asked, fighting through the fatigue to understand.

Yes, well, I want you to know that we had to use forceps to get the baby out, the doctor explained. He was not quite full breech, but rather sideways. I was able to turn him but he and your wife needed help getting him out of the birth canal. That’s when I saw that he was blue. The nurses took all the steps to get him breathing, clearing the mucus, suctioning his nose and mouth. They worked quite a while. Anyway, he is weak. That could be explained by the long labor. But we’ll need to keep him under close observation for a while. We will do some tests on him in the morning. Your son doesn’t seem able to suckle. So, first things first. We’ve got to get some nourishment into him.

Then what? Raymond interrupted. Will he be okay then?

Dr. Joseph hesitated before responding. Mr. Bland, sometimes with labors like this, well, there is a chance that your son’s mental or physical abilities might have been impacted. We’ll know more after we run some tests. Right now, it is important for you to be strong. We’ve tried to make your wife comfortable. We’ve given her something to help her sleep. But in the morning, she will need you to help her grasp the findings of the tests. You need to get some sleep yourself and then be back here first thing in the morning.

While the doctor had been talking, Raymond’s head had dropped into his hands, with his eyes toward the floor. Now he looked up. Doctor, are you saying my son might be crippled or…retarded? He choked on the last word.

Mr. Bland, there is that chance. But we just don’t know anything right now. It’s been a long night for all of you. Go home, get some rest and we will talk again in the morning.

With that, the doctor stood up, put his hand on Raymond’s shoulder momentarily and turned to go, leaving Raymond more confused than ever.

Chapter 2

September, 2007, Deerfield County, North Georgia

Oh good grief! Willa yelled at herself silently. She had managed to run the front tire of her minivan up on the curb as she tried to park in front of Gold Mine Elementary. Once again, you’ve pushed it to the limit, leaving no time for error, and now you park like a 15-year old driver’s ed student, she continued her silent scolding. She often said no one could be harder on her than she was on herself.

Willa’s watch said 10:00 on the dot. So, she quickly decided to leave the van jacked up on the curb. She threw the door open only to hear the skin-crawling sound of metal scraping cement. Willa cursed under her breath and grabbed the folder with her resume in it. Tossing her pocketbook over her shoulder, she jumped out and threw her weight against the door. Again the ear-splitting scraping. After three tries, the door finally freed itself of the curb and slammed shut.

Willa rolled her eyes to heaven, hoping the principal’s office didn’t overlook the front parking lot.

In the school lobby, the woman at the front desk was busy checking in parent volunteers.

I’m sorry it’s taking so long, she explained, but we’ve just installed a new security system, county-wide, and everyone must have their driver’s license scanned before they are allowed in any school building. Then we take your photo and keep it stored here for future visits. Next time you come, you’ll just swipe in and get a printed security badge. So it won’t take this long again.

Great! fumed Willa, as she forced a pressed-lipped smile. She was fourth in line. The clock on the check-in desk said 10:03. The woman at the front of the line produced her license, had it scanned, stepped to the side to have her photo taken and was on her way. The man behind her was just as efficient. But the woman directly in front of Willa was balancing a large plate of cupcakes and a plastic grocery bag of juice boxes in one hand and a boy about two-and-a-half years-old on the opposite hip.

Jackson, I gotta put you down, the woman said.

The little boy held onto his mother’s shoulder as she tried to lean over and put him down.

Jackson, put your feet down, honey. Mommy needs to sign in so we can go to Rachael’s class.

But the little boy stubbornly kept his legs latched around his mother’s waist. The woman put the cupcakes on the counter, dropped the bag from her reddened fingers and tried to pry the kid off her. Now, apparently, he decided that while he was losing the battle of physical strength, he’d try a temperamental method of resistance. He went limp, flopped on the floor and wailed like an ambulance siren.

Jackson, you stand up this minute! his mother commanded.

But Jackson would have nothing of it.

All right, young man, you stand up right now or you won’t get any of Rachael’s birthday cupcakes, she threatened.

The woman glanced up at Willa as she continued to try and get the jelly-boy to his feet. I’m so sorry. It’s the terrible two’s. He’s just got a mind of his own and he’s out to prove it, she smiled wearily. "

Come on, son, she said as she scooped him up off the floor.

The woman behind the counter said, Well, we won’t be able to take your picture like that. Do you think he will let me hold him?

Who would snap the photo then? the mother asked. Both women turned and looked at Willa.

Willa thought fast, but not fast enough. As she protested that she had an interview with the principal scheduled for that very minute, the mother passed the lump of boy to her.

But… Willa objected. And then she just sighed and gave in. The little boy was kind of cute and he was looking right into her face with his big, brown eyes. Oh, you’re not so bad, Willa began as the other two women got the necessary photograph. You’re just a cutie and need somebody to notice… At that very moment the boy drew in a huge breath, flung his head back and sneezed with all his might, right in her face.

The mother quickly ran over and took her son back, grabbed a tissue out of her purse and started dabbing at Willa’s shirt.

Please, please, it’s okay. Can I just get checked in? I really am running late. Willa’s impatience was showing, despite her best effort.

Oh, of course, why didn’t you say so? the mother asked sheepishly.

When Willa’s temporary badge was printed out with her photo on it, she noticed the large dots of kid snot all over her silk blouse. So much for first impressions, Willa grouched, once again, to nobody but herself.

* * *

Finally, Willa found herself sitting stiffly in a small waiting chair in the school’s administrative office. She felt no less nervous than the time in 6th grade when she got sent to the principal’s office for smoking in the bathroom. She tried to psych herself up. Now Willa, you’re a grown woman, she told herself. You used to eat people like this guy for lunch when you were a branch manager for the Savings and Loan. Just because you’ve been home raising three kids for the past decade doesn’t mean you’ve lost your edge. Willa bit her lip, trying to believe what she was thinking.

A petite, attractive woman came out of an inner office and held out her hand. She was impeccably dressed from her quaffed hair to her trendy shoes. Willa felt clumsy as she rose from her chair. She was just glad it didn’t stick to her ample fanny and rise up with her.

Hello. I’m Cathy Cook, Mr. Johnson’s assistant, the woman said crisply. He’s ready to see you now.

Great!" replied Willa as she shook the tiny woman’s tiny hand. Ms. Cook had the unfortunate luck to have a rather pinched, upturned nose, so she appeared to be snooty, whether she really was or not.

Right this way, Ms. Cook instructed.

Willa followed along, trying to balance in her high heels, which she usually wore only to church. Tennis shoes were her typical foot attire for the part time nob she held at her kids’ preschool. She had earned peanuts in salary, but the reduced tuition had really helped. And she enjoyed seeing her kids, even in passing, during their school day. Daniel had moved on to elementary school several years ago, followed a few years later by Ray.

Willa would have loved to have spent one more year being with Bella in that more relaxed preschool setting. But Joel’s layoff last year had really put a dent in their savings. His new job didn’t offer medical benefits. So, both of them knew that even though he was working again, the time had come for Willa to go back to a real job. Now Bella was enrolled full time in Georgia Pre-K for four year olds. She’d been attending since school started a few weeks ago. They’d been lucky to get her in the free program, because there was a waiting list.

Willa’s goal was simple…but not easy. She needed full time work, plus benefits, plus a schedule that would closely match her kids’ so they could avoid more child care costs. That ruled out going back into banking. When she heard about an opening at Gold Mine Elementary for a Paraprofessional, the politically correct term these days for Teacher’s Aid, she’d called right away for an interview.

This is Mr. Johnson’s office, Ms. Cook explained as she swept the door open. Willa was taken aback by the fact that there were three people…one man and two women…in the room.

Good Morning, Willa enthused cheerfully, as she walked into the roomy office. I’m Willa Grizzard. She held out her hand. The short, stout man stood from behind his desk and shook her hand. I’m Paul Johnson, he said, not bothering to introduce the two women, who had also stood up during Willa’s entry. Nice to meet you, Willa replied as she nodded first in his direction then toward the women. Everyone sat back down in their chairs, which were pulled up around the man’s desk He was younger than Willa had expected.

Grizzard… the principal mused. Are you any relation to that newspaper columnist who wrote for the AJC for so many years? What was his name?"

Lewis Grizzard, said one of the two Anonymous Women.

That’s right, Lewis Grizzard. Didn’t he die a while back? Mr. Johnson replied.

Oh no, no relation, Willa answered. My husband’s family is from South Carolina. We both call that home. My maiden name was Bland. Anyway, Mr. Grizzard had a high-falutin’ way of pronouncing his name. You know, he always portrayed himself as so down home in his columns, but he said Gri-ZARD’, with the emphasis on the last syllable. Like he was from England or something. Anyway, we South Carolina Grizzards must have southernized the name somewhere along the way. We say Griz-zerd. Rhymes with ‘blizzard.’ Willa stopped as she realized she’d kind of gone on a bit too long.

Griz-zerd, Mr. Johnson repeated. Well, Mrs. Grizzard, you’re applying today for the Parapro position we have open. We’re anxious to fill the spot because we are already five weeks into the school year. But we do want to get the right person in there. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

He’d lobbed the ball to her. She remembered how the interview game worked from when she was the one doing the hiring.

I have lived here in Goshen for over 10 years now. My husband and I have three children. She knew it would have been illegal for him to ask her about her family, but she wanted him to know about them right up front. Nothing was more important to her than her family.

I got my degree in Business Management from the University of South Carolina in 1985. Then I spent 12 years working my way up in the banking industry. She passed a copy of her resume across the desk to him. You can see my work history right here, she indicated with a French manicured nail. Anyway, when I had my first child I decided to stay home with him full time. But during the interim while I wasn’t employed, I have continued to use my management skills in a volunteer capacity. I headed up my neighborhood homeowners’ association. I started a Mothers’ Morning Out program at the local Rec. Center. I have been in charge of our church’s Vacation Bible School for the past three summers. I’ve also taught swim lessons at the YMCA. Then two years ago, I took a position with Goshen Community Church Preschool. It was part time, just three mornings a week. But I was the lead teacher in the three-year olds’ class. Willa paused to let what she had said sink in. She really believed the skills she’d gained in her volunteer and part time work should not be undervalued.

What did you do as a lead teacher? asked Nameless Woman Number One.

Willa turned toward her. Well, I was responsible for lesson plans. I tried to focus the curriculum on engaging the children’s five senses as much as possible. Research shows that young children learn best through play. Academics come naturally when you let them build with blocks, pour rice from one container to another, squish play dough between their fingers. Willa knew she had a sing-song drawl and southern way of expressing herself. She just hoped it wouldn’t get in the way of her knowledgeable experience and love for children.

Now, that’s not to say that we didn’t have a schedule with an outline for reaching certain goals. We had Welcome Time, Circle Time, Movement Class, Music, Reading, Story Time, Recess, and Snack Time. It was always a busy morning. I worked directly with the children, focusing on developing social skills, like sharing, helping them develop both their fine and gross motor skills, as well as teaching them classroom skills, such as listening and following directions, walking in line and sitting quietly for a period of time.

Were you in the classroom alone or did you have an assistant? asked Nameless Woman Number 2.

I had an assistant. I was responsible for directing my assistant in implementing the curriculum. For instance, while I was talking about the day’s weather during Circle Time, I would have her sit with the children on the floor to help them focus their attention, to teach them to sit ‘crisscross applesauce.’ That sort of thing. Willa used her fingers to make quotation mark signs when she used teaching jargon.

Well, you’re used to being the lead teacher. Would you have a problem being in the assistant position here at Gold Mine Elementary? the principal questioned.

Oh, heavens, no, Willa replied. "I feel I have developed skills that will make me a useful assistant in working with the students here. I know that a certified teacher has the training and skills to lead the class. I would welcome the opportunity to come alongside her and reinforce what she’s teaching. I would hope